Stake Out
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. Pre-Earth. Prowl accepts a mission to infiltrate the Decepticon Base in Praxus. Little does he know what's waiting for him there.
1. Chapter 1

Windcharger crawled onwards, using the debris of the crashed buildings as cover. Everything was quiet, but the mech didn't allow himself to be fooled; he had been warned that there was such a thing as 'too quiet'.

- I'm still at spot A, - he transmitted at the secret frequency, optics darting in every direction.

- Good. Proceed according to plan, - the commanding voice said calmly. – And watch out for enemy fire. –

- Acknowledged, - the young mech replied, and he ended the transmission. Following procedure, he took out of subspace a datapad to check Brawn's position, his partner for today's mission. His fellow Autobot was not too far away, already moving towards their appointed target.

- Brawn, all clear? – Whindcharger asked, unsure what to make of this haste.

- All clear and I've got the target in sight, - Brawn's voice sounded from the other end of the link.

- Be careful; it could be a trap. –

- Don't worry, kid. I can handle a trap when I see one…-

The next thing Windcharger heard was the sound of laserfire and Brawn cursing loudly.

- Brawn? Brawn, talk to me! – the younger mech said, tapping his radio-transmitter.

- I'm pinned down! – Brawn called out amid explosions and shooting. – You have to hit the target on your own! –

Windcharger gasped. – What about you? –

- Don't think about me! See to your mission! -

- But we're supposed to be together in this! – Windcharger looked around, close to panicking. The target was too far; he would never make it on time!

- Windcharger, go! –

- I can't! –

"Computer, terminate training simulation. Mission status: Fail," the calm voice said, practically out of the blue.

"Order recorded," the computer replied, and the bombarded terrain vanished, replaced by a single white room. Windcharger and Brawn exchanged a look, sighed, and then faced their superior.

"You acted too fast, Brawn," the black and white mech said, writing on his datapad. "And you, Windcharger," his clear-blue gaze rested on the younger mech, "hesitated, losing precious time that you won't have the luxury to waste on the battlefield."

"Yes, sir," Windcharger said sadly. "But I couldn't make that kind of decision. Am I really meant to choose between my partner and the enemy target?"

"There might come a time that you will have to do just that," the officer said, unfazed. "And then you will have to decide what is more important to you: your fellow Autobot or the mission."

"Yes, sir," Windcharger replied.

"Good. That will be all then." And with that, the officer turned on his heel and exited the training facilities. He didn't even bother to look back as Windcharger let out a soft sigh of resignation, kicking an invisible stone.

"Don't worry too much about it, kid," Brawn said, placing a reassuring arm across the younger mech's shoulder. "Prowl has the bad habit of thinking the worst case scenarios; you did alright under the circumstances."

"It sure doesn't feel that way," Windcharger replied with a sigh.

Brawn waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "He just takes his job seriously. That's what Prime will tell you anyway."

"And what do you think, Brawn?" the younger mech asked as they both exited the room.

"Probably what you're thinking right now. That he has a stick up his shaft."

Windcharger couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Still…" Brawn said. "He wants to teach the Decepti-clowns a good lesson, just like the rest of us. That sure counts for something."

"I guess so. But it would have been a lot better if he were…" Windcharger pursed his lips, trying to come up with an appropriate word regarding the black and white officer. "… Well, _nicer_."

Brawn laughed heartily. "We can't win them all, kid. At least he's an Autobot," he said, patting the younger mech on the back. "Now come on, let's go get some energon. My treat."

That finally lifted Windcharger's spirits. Smiling at his friend, he followed him to the main hall and let the conversation drift to other, happier matters.

* * *

><p>Prowl walked down the corridor, still writing on his datapad, when a familiar voice stopped him on his tracks. He turned around, and he bowed his head slightly upon seeing Ironhide.<p>

"There you are. Prime's been looking all over for you. What's with the radio silence?" the veteran asked, raising an optic ridge.

"My apologies," Prowl answered sincerely. "I was busy with the training of the new recruits."

"Well, there's no harm in that," Ironhide said. "But you're no longer just an instructor, Prowl. Officers need to be at beck and call in case of emergencies."

"Understood," Prowl said. "It won't happen again."

"Good. Now that we've got that out of the way, it's time to check with the chief and see what he wants."

Prowl frowned. "I have to complete my report."

"I'll do it for you," Ironhide said, practically grabbing the datapad from Prowl's hands. "Now go on; don't keep the big guy waiting."

Prowl made a motion as if to voice an objection but, in the end, he simply nodded his compliance and turned on his heel. There was no point in delaying matters any further because of his lack of response in the first place, after all. So, he made a beeline for Prime's office, aware that the Autobot leader would be there, attending to his own matters. The black and white mech barely acknowledged the fellow Autobots he happened to pass by, preferring not to engage himself in idle chit chat. He simply greeted them with a nod and then moved on, until he finally reached his destination. He pressed the call button politely, and then waited for Prime's permission to enter.

"Come in."

Prowl did just that, bowing his head slightly as the door swooshed closed behind him. "Ironhide informed me that you wished to see me, Prime?"

"Indeed," Optimus said, sounding quite grave. "Please have a seat, Prowl. It won't take long."

Prowl nodded and sat down, optics locked on the Autobot leader. "I'm listening."

Optimus nodded, obviously taking his time to speak. Prowl had to admit that that was quite intriguing. It sounded like the matter wasn't only important, but delicate as well.

"Prowl, I understand that you hail from the city of Praxus. You were there till the Decepticons attacked. Do I have it right?"

"Yes, Prime," Prowl answered, keeping his tone neutral. He remembered the Decepticon attack only too well. He had managed to survive only out of sheer luck, while everybody and everything he knew was gone in a flash, razed to the ground.

Optimus must have realized that it was a touchy subject, for his look became apologetic as he continued on. "Are you acquainted with any other survivors from there?"

Prowl bowed his head slightly as he thought about it. "Not within the Autobot ranks, no. Why do you want to know?"

Optimus let out a small, yet heavy sigh. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. Intel has reached us that the Decepticons use Praxus as a major base of operations."

Prowl nodded slowly. "The city is in a strategic location. The Decepticons were bound to use that to their advantage," he said. "We should send a scout or a spy to keep an eye on the situation there."

"We've already done that. In fact, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, Prowl," Optimus said.

Prowl frowned, puzzled by this kind of information. "I don't think I was aware of this."

"You weren't. You've only recently got your officer status, and our spy has been there in the last six months."

Six months. It had been six months since the city had fallen. Six months since he had been found under the debris of his home and then welcomed by the Autobots. Strange how that nightmare seemed so far away and yet Prowl could still remember everything down to the last detail.

"That was quick," he commented.

Optimus nodded. "Our spy said that it would be better if he came across the Decepticons as a wandering survivor of Praxus. He had lived there before, so he knew the territory quite well, making himself useful to the Decepticons."

"So he's infiltrated?"

"Indeed," Optimus said. "We had agreed that there would be no contact for at least six months, so that he would be able to gain the Decepticons' trust. New recruits are under close surveillance and it wasn't worth risking the mission just yet."

"Until now," Prowl concluded. "I assume he's made contact?"

"Affirmative," the Autobot leader replied. "Blaster picked up his encrypted message about five mega-cycles ago."

"So what is the news?" Prowl asked curiously.

"The Decepticon base is developing swiftly and they're in need of able-bodied mechs to keep things running smoothly within it. If we're to send another Autobot to serve as his backup and partner, this is our best chance to do so."

"And that's where the Autobot with the Praxian background comes into the picture," Prowl said, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Yes. But if there aren't any available within our team, then I need to ask Ultra Magnus and Elita-1 to see if they have someone in their own ranks."

"That won't be necessary," the tactician said, optics alight with determination. "I volunteer for this mission."

Optimus, however, seemed hesitant. "I can't accept, Prowl. I already risked too much by sending _him_, a fellow officer, behind enemy lines."

"Even so, I'm still the best candidate," Prowl said. "Trying to find someone else means losing precious time and probably missing our chance."

"That's true," Optimus admitted in a soft tone, "But if something happens…"

"I can make sure nothing happens," Prowl said. "I know what my chances of infiltration are, and I assure you they're as good as any frontliner's."

"You haven't seen much of the battlefield, Prowl."

"I nevertheless have confidence in my abilities."

"Even if it means having to work for the very ones who destroyed your home?" Optimus asked gently.

"Yes. I'm perfectly capable of focusing on my mission."

Optimus fell silent for a few moments, obviously contemplating matters, and then nodded. "Very well, Prowl. You have permission to leave for Praxus. Leave someone in your stead and then depart as soon as possible."

"Understood, Prime," Prowl said, standing up. "What is the name of my contact?"

"Jazz. Blaster can send a message to him that we'll be sending reinforcements."

"I'd rather my identity remained secret for now in case we're being spied on."

"Good idea. And, Prowl… Be careful out there."

"Always," Prowl said with a small bow of his head, and then walked away. He had to see to several tasks before heading for Praxus, and something told him that he would have to remain there for quite a while…

TBC…


	2. The Decepticon Base

The plan had been simple, but effective. Blaster had already given Prowl the coordinates, as well as a datapad containing a request for new recruits on the Decepticon side just in case someone wondered why Prowl applied for the position. Ironhide and Red Alert had also escorted Prowl up to the outskirts of Praxus, making sure that there wouldn't be any unpleasant surprises from the Decepticons, and then Prowl carried on his own, rid of his Autobot insignia and his radio-transmitter; any connection with the faction had to be destroyed.

So, Prowl walked at the streets of his former home, his optics taking in his surroundings with a heavy spark. He could remember the city bustling with life, and yet now there was barely anyone circulating besides him. Most of the citizens had been killed during the Decepticon attack, and those who had survived had either left or stayed hidden… or even become Decepticons themselves. Most of the buildings had been abandoned as well, left to the mercy of the bombings, acid rain and decay.

Still, Prowl was able to find his way. And though it was hard to think of what the city used to be like compared to the ruins that stretched as far as the optic could see, he also knew that emotions played little part in his mission. Thus he simply followed the instructions downloaded in his datapad and then got on the first functioning underground platform he could find in order to head towards the centre of the city.

The trip hadn't been overly long, even if it was rather lonely. When he stepped out of the platform, however, he found himself in a square that was quite crowded with mechs who either went about their business or rested their backs against a wall, engaged in some kind of idle conversation. Prowl would have been glad at the sight if it weren't for a disturbing detail: the Decepticon insignia displayed on the mechs' chest-plates. Fortunately, none of them seem to notice – or perhaps even care – about the new presence that studied them so meticulously. That gave Prowl the chance to look for the base without having to answer to anyone. According to his info, it should be just around the corner…

Prowl stopped in his tracks before even realizing it. He had already expected the probability, and the coordinates should have been a give away. In spite of it all, though, nothing had prepared him for this. The Academy, the place where his father had worked as a teacher, the place where Prowl himself had spent a large portion of his youth, had been converted into a military building in the hands of the enemy. There was a sense of sacrilege in the whole situation, and though Prowl could be calm to the point of cold stoicism, this time he felt hatred and anger sweeping in his spark; feelings that fuelled him and gave them further motivation to accomplish his goal.

"Excuse me. Who's in charge here?" he asked a large Decepticon who happened to walk past him.

The Decepticon regarded Prowl in an intrigued manner. "That depends on two things. One, why do you want to know and, two, how badly do you want that information?"

Prowl pursed his lips, already prepared for that kind of hostility. "Well, since you want to know… One, I want it very badly and two…" in the next moment, he took his rifle out of subspace and aimed it at the Decepticon's face, "Because I asked you nicely."

The large blue and orange mech winced. "Fair enough. You'll find him inside the base. Look for the largest room there is; can't miss it."

"Thank you." With that matter settled, Prowl lowered his rifle and headed towards the building. He knew that the room the mech was talking about was on the top floor, and it used to be the director's office. It was only natural that the Decepticon commanders would use it for their purposes.

"'Scuse me. Can I help you?"

Prowl stopped in his tracks, regarding the black and white mech curiously. He seemed a bit shorter than him, with optics hiding behind a visor and obviously studying the newcomer. Prowl would rather he had been on his way without answering, but there was a chance that it would look suspicious.

"Is this the right way for the commander's office?" he asked, keeping his face neutral.

But, if Prowl had thought that he would get away that easily, he soon found out he had been sorely mistaken. Instead of nodding and giving a simple answer like 'yes' or 'no', the black and white mech grinned broadly, giving him one of the friendliest looks the tactician had ever seen directed at him.

"Yup, sure is! I'm on my way there myself, so we'll get to go together!"

Prowl found himself surprised and almost at a loss as to what to say to that. In the end, he settled with a weak yet polite smile. "I appreciate it. Thank you."

The black and white mech's grin would have probably broadened if that were possible. "Great! Come on then."

And Prowl followed, since he realized he had little choice in the matter. Just as he had little choice but to listen to the stream of words that poured out of the mechs lip components in an almost incessant manner.

"You hailing from Praxus? You sure like you do. Personally, I used to live here as a kid but then my folks got transferred and I had to go with them. You got any family? Heh, I guess not or you wouldn't be here. I hope you have some fighting or Aistrike really won't bother with you. He's always looking for mechs who wouldn't hesitate tear their own brother limb from limb, you know? Well, none of the batch you'll see around would win a congeniality award, so you'd better be careful who you're going to cross. Or annoy. If there's anything you want, come straight to me. I know everyone and everything around here, and I'll be glad to give you the info."

Prowl frowned. There was a chance that he could be wrong but, as the mech babbled on, the tactician got the impression that he didn't hear all this just because he was indulgent. In fact, there seemed to be another, more important message between the lines.

"That's an odd statement, considering you've just warned about annoying or crossing anybody," he pointed out.

The mech chuckled. "Someone has to be the cheery guy or noone would get recruited at this rate!" he replied, and they stopped in front of a large door. "You want to go first or shall I do the honours and introduce you while at it?"

"Depends on how things work around here," Prowl said thoughtfully.

"Then I know just the right thing," the mech replied, already walking confidently inside. "Yo, Airstrike! Here's the report you kept asking about!"

Airstrike, a large tetrajet with a red visor and a faceplate that covered most of his features, looked up sternly. "I told you about a hundred times to press the call button first!"

"Let's make that a hundred and one then," the mech said with a cheeky smirk. "Besides, it's not that you ever do anything around here besides work."

"Watch it," Airstrike replied in a growl.

"Aw, you know you love me, man," the mech said almost innocently.

"Hardly. I think your sole purpose around here is to give me a headache."

"Nah," the mech said. "I'm also your snitch and welcoming committee!"

"Jazz!" Airstrike said stolidly.

Prowl kept his face neutral, but, in truth, his mind raced as he quickly stored that information in his databanks. _This_ was Jazz? His contact? He was certainly nothing like what Prowl had in mind…

"Fine, fine, just saying," Jazz replied with a shrug. "Shall I tell this one you aren't interested then?"

Airstrike locked his gaze on Prowl as if noticing the tactician for the first time since the two mechs had entered. The wings behind his back tensed in a wary manner, nevertheless he put his stylus down.

"Right. So what _can_ you do?"

Prowl pressed his lip components in thought, for he remembered Jazz's words; Airstrike had to be impressed.

"I've been a student in this Academy," he said. "I can run a simulation of your tactics within my databanks and provide with the outcome of the battle before it ever happens."  
>"I don't trust in the mathematical hogwash," Aistrike said at once, waving his hand.<p>

"I can handle your supplies and armament, notifying you what is needed to upgrade the base and troops."

"I have someone reliable dealing with that already."

"I know Praxus; I can also serve as your scout."

"Most of the soldiers are from Praxus," Aistrike said in a bored manner.

Prowl nodded and held up his rifle. "I can use this as well."

"We have plenty of gunners."

Prowl, however, smiled. "Find me one other who can do _all _those as well as _I _can, and I promise you I won't bother you again."

Airstrike looked at Prowl for many long moments. "Bold statement… nevertheless I like your confidence," he noted thoughtfully. "Very well, we'll put your abilities to the test. Pass and you can officially consider yourself a Decepticon. Fail and… well, it won't be pretty. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Prowl answered.

"Good. Jazz, you'll supervise him for the duration of the trial."

"You sure? You did tell me to keep an eye out for Firestarter…" Jazz started.

"I'm sure you can handle this, you're the Jazz-man, after all," Airstrike said.

If it meant to taunt Jazz, Airstrike was surely mistaken if the grin was any indication. "See?" he told Prowl. "He's just a big softie really."

Airstrike growled. "Just get out, both of you."

"Done and done!" Jazz said sweetly, and he prodded Prowl outside. The tactician followed obediently, his audios picking up the sound of the door hissing closed behind them. Still, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.

"Was it a good idea to rile him up like that?" he asked Jazz.

"It sure was," Jazz said. "Don't worry; he won't really do anything. I'm his right hand whether he likes it or not."

"I see. You're… invaluable," Prowl said.

"Yup," Jazz said, grinning. "Well, see you. Unless you see me first."

And with that, Jazz walked away, leaving Prowl in the middle of the corridor.

Prowl decided that this was definitely the strangest mech he had ever met.

TBC...


	3. Knowing The Way Around

Finding a place to recharge had been relatively easy for Prowl. All he had to do was call dibbs on a room and that had been that. And though he hadn't been particularly comfortable with sleeping in a place that was practically crawling in Decepticons, he had managed to rest for a few megacycles without much trouble.

Still, it didn't mean the tactician's troubles had been over just like that. As it turned out, from the moment that he stepped out of his dorms and headed for his morning ration of energon, life among the Decepticons was more than just a little different from the Autobots' way of life. For one thing, Prowl was dismayed to see that the common rooms were hardly filled with soldiers who talked over their energon. Instead, it was filled with officers who greedily took the largest portion of the rations either by pulling the authority card or intimidating their subordinates. In turn, their subordinates turned to the workers, who were then forced to somehow get by – through stealing, preferably - till the next handout.

It had taken Prowl less than a breem to figure all that out just by standing at the door and observing everything from a discreet distance. However, he hadn't managed to solve an even important problem: How could he get a cube for himself? Stealing was his nature, he was hardly an officer and he doubted anyone would…

"Yo, man! You're right on time!" a familiar voice said close to Prowl, cutting into his train of thought.

Startled and unsure just how Jazz had managed to walk up to him so silently, Prowl turned around to see the very mech himself, his trademarked grin tugging on his lip components.

"I am?" the tactician asked, confused.

"Sure thing! You saved me from the trouble of looking for you," Jazz replied. "Come on, let's go have a seat."

Prowl looked around dubiously. "I doubt we will find such a thing here."

"Watch and learn, man," Jazz said with an enigmatic smile, and he walked up to the first table, where two smaller Decepticons were already sitting and drinking their energon. "You. Buzz off; you've outstayed your welcome."

The two Decepticons didn't have to be told twice. They scampered off at once, even leaving their energon cubes behind. Prowl raised an optic ridge, the display proving both intriguing and disturbing.

"What happens if at some point they decide to object?" he asked as he and Jazz took up their newly-acquired seats.

"I gotta tell you, it won't be pretty… for them," Jazz answered with a smirk. "So what do you think of our little group so far? Is it to your tastes?"

Prowl pursed his lip components momentarily in thought. "It's different to what I'm used to. Then again, I knew what I was getting myself into."

"I'm still surprised you decided to come here. No offence, but you look kinda… academic."

"I can hold myself better than you probably think," Prowl answered.

The fellow black and white mech grinned. "I'm starting to get the impression," he said, and he held up his cube in a gesture of 'cheers'.

Prowl nodded and held up his own cube, sipping some of the luminescent liquid.

"So… First thing we should do is show you around the place," Jazz declared. "It would be embarrassing to get lost in the place you're meant to work."

"I suppose it would be," Prowl said politely. "Did you have something in mind?"

"Plenty," Jazz answered, grinning. "Finish up your cube and we can go."

"All right," Prowl said, and then comfortable place silence settled between them till it was time for them to go. Jazz practically dragged him away before he even had the chance to dispose of the empty cube, taking him through familiar corridors and towards familiar rooms that, unfortunately, now served a completely different purpose from their designated ones during the days of peace.

"And this is where we keep our ammo," Jazz said, opening another door with his password. "Right here you can find everything, from laser cartridges to landmines and from guns to rocket launchers."

Prowl frowned and took a look inside, seeing that the room that had once been an amphitheatre meant for lecturing was now used as a storage area. However, it wasn't the particular realization that was so disturbing…

"That's… an impressive number of ammunition," he said softly.

"Yup, I'll say," Jazz agreed, his grin sending a chill down Prowl's spinal axis. "Airstrike has some pretty good connections, and they're more than happy to keep us supplied… for the right price, of course."

"I never thought the Decepticons could be so well-funded," Prowl said.

"Whatever we need, we have plenty of it," Jazz replied. "Our faction has established an organized network of merchants who can benefit from our raw materials, and they give us their worth either in energon or weapons."

"But where do the raw materials come from?" Prowl knew that they couldn't get them just out of nowhere.

"Lots of places," Jazz said with an unabashed shrug. "From torn buildings, abandoned warehouses… even deactivated mechs."

Prowl looked at the visored mech incredulously. "You can't be serious!"

"I'm pretty serious," Jazz replied. "Decepticon policy is to never leave anything to waste."

"Even if it means desecrating corpses?" Prowl asked, appalled at the notion.

"Even then," Jazz said. "Hey, I don't like it any more than you do, but that's Decepticons for you. Megatron always considers it a great honour that his soldiers continue to serve their cause even after death."

"Something tells me Megatron wouldn't appreciate it if his own warriors used him for spare parts, though," Prowl pointed out.

Jazz laughed. "You know something, just between you and me?" he said, and he leaned close to Prowl as if to confine something in secret. "I _bet_ he wouldn't. But…" with that, he took a step back, returning Prowl his personal space, "that's not up to us to decide. All we can do is follow orders and make sure our connections stay happy."

"So what do they do with these… raw materials?" Prowl asked, regarding Jazz in a manner of someone who made a casual conversation. In truth, however, he hoped Jazz would be able to give him some more useful information. Though it was true that he'd have to reveal himself as the new undercover Autobot sooner rather than later, he couldn't risk being listened in on; there were cameras everywhere. He'd have to find the right place and the right for it.

"That's easy; more weapons," Jazz said then, cutting into his train of thought. "But… if all goes well… maybe even more soldiers whose sole purpose is to serve Megatron."

Prowl frowned. "You mean more Decepticons? Without Vector Sigma's life-giving force?"

"Heh, maybe I wouldn't be surprised that you'd know about _that_ little detail," Jazz said. "Except Megatron doesn't care if he has Decepticons with charming, thinking personalities, but mindless drones dedicated to him and ready to die if he says so."

Prowl nodded his understanding. "Sparkless machines. No emotion, no fear… nothing but programmed loyalty."

"And pretty cheap to make. The perfect soldiers," Jazz completed. "Well, that's what Warcloud promised anyway."

"Who?"

"The merchant/ engineer who's behind the creation of the drones. He says he can take whatever spare parts he can get his hands on, rebuild them to controllable husks and then hands them over to us," Jazz explained. "In fact… I think he's supposed to make a demonstration tonight."

"Tonight?" Prowl echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"It's supposed to be this top secret meeting between him and Airstrike, but I happened to find out about it," Jazz said.

"Isn't it risky to have that kind of knowledge and just pass it along to someone you've barely known for a few orns?" Prowl said, raising an optic ridge.

"Well, there's the usual 'Don't breathe a word of this to anyone or I'll kill you' drill, but I like to think you're clever enough to figure it out on your own," Jazz said, grinning. "Now where was I? Oh, yeah… Now down _this _corridor…"

And with that, Jazz continued rambling on, but Prowl hardly paid any attention to him. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that Jazz didn't just casually give him this kind of information. He wasn't sure how Jazz was aware that he was talking to a fellow Autobot, but one thing _was _certain. Prowl didn't intend to squander his chance to take advantage of it at the first opportunity.

* * *

><p>Before the war, concepts of time had very little meaning to giant, everlasting machines like the Transformers. Cybertron was abundant in energy and the cities stayed lit at all times, the golden effect bathing everything as if it was always daylight. As the war raged on, however, energy resources depleted at an alarmingly fast pace, until both factions came to the realization that they had to economize as much as possible. First the auxiliary power stations were shut down, so that only the inhabited areas would be sustained. When that hadn't been enough, it had been agreed that even the main stations should be fully operational only several megacycles at a time. At all other times, most of the Cybertronians would be set on recharge mode as well to reserve their own energy. So it was that, what organics already knew as 'night-time', got established on a robotic world as well."<p>

It was during that time – night-time, that is – that a lone figure stealthily in the dark corridors, using his hands to touch his way through the base. Prowl had the option to adjust his optic sensors, of course, but he didn't want to risk anyone noticing the blue shine. Besides, when Jazz showed him around the house, he had recorded everything in his memory databanks, creating a map of the place; finding his way was no longer an issue. All he had to worry about was coming across any of the few Decepticons that worked on 'night-shift', and so far he had been lucky on that department as well.

"Airstrike!"

Prowl glued himself against the wall, and then dared a peek around the corner in order to assess the situation. The Decepticon didn't seem to notice the black and white mech as he stood outside the door to Airstrike's office, calling him without even considering the courtesy of the call button or a radio-transmitter.

"What now, Longshot?"

"That company you've been waiting for is here. Just got the signal."

Company… Prowl was more than just positive that this Longshot was talking about the war merchant, Warcloud. That much was obvious, judging from the way the door hissed open at once and airstrike stepped out, saying in a pleased manner, "Right on time as always."

"Shall I bring him here?" Longshot asked.

"No. These walls have audios."

Prowl didn't know about the walls, but he certainly a set of perfectly good audios which he intended to put to use. Staying at a safe distance, he followed the two Decepticons outside the base, down towards a pretty ample, albeit abandoned square which clearly served as a makeshift landing area. For in the next moment, Prowl caught sight of an aircraft that landed close to Airstrike and Longshot without a sound, and then saw the door open, revealing a fellow Cybertronian as he stepped out. Warcloud.

Prowl knew now that it was important that he recorded the Decepticons' interaction, but he couldn't risk getting any closer either; there was a chance he would be discovered. But, fortunately, Blaster had made sure he had equipped the tactician with a couple of tricks up his arm-plating – quite literally. Taking out of subspace a small bugging device, he armed it in his rifle and aimed it to a post close to Airstrike and Warcloud. A few moments of concentration later, Prowl fired his gun and the bug flew to the post, gluing itself there.

"I trust your trip was uneventful?" Airstrike's voice sounded in Prowl's audios; the bug was obviously working.

"A couple of bumps, but nothing my little friend here couldn't handle," the merchant said, pointing at the spacecraft.

Prowl wondered what could that gesture mean, but he got his answer when the 'ship' transformed into another Cybertronian. Of course he knew that Decepticons had acquired the technology that enabled them to fly. Even so, he hadn't expected they would have advanced to the point they could carry others.

"Good. Let's see what you have then…"

Prowl listened intently, curious to hear what Warcloud had to say.

"The prototype is finished. The first tests have given quite the positive results as well."

"Have they now? May I see a sample?"

"Of course. Do you have an electro-guinea pig available?"

"Longshot, bring the husk," Airstrike instructed.

Longshot complied at once, signaling at two more guards. Prowl watched as the two guards carried what looked like an offline Cybertronian and placed him on the ground, unsure what the experiment was about. But then the chilling suspicion that this _wasn't_ a real Cybertronian crawled on the back of his mind, and he realized that Jazz had known _very_ well what he had been talking about. His eyes now never left the scene that unfolded before him, feeling more than just a little disturbed as Warcloud knelt next to the lifeless form, placing inside it some kind of circuit.

"Give it an order."

"Will it obey me?"

"For now, yes. The rest of the circuits will be programmed to obey Megatron alone."

"Very well…" Airstrike said. "Fire that post."

The drone did without so much as a second thought, and Prowl winced in pain as it didn't just destroy the post, but the bug as well. As his audio systems reset themselves, however, the tactician had no doubt in his mind that the particular circuit worked _too _well. And if they started mass-producing, the results could be…

"Horrifying," Prowl murmured.

"I'm afraid so," another voice said from behind him. "And if we don't do something about it, we'll be in over our heads."

Prowled instantly turned around, coming face to face with the familiar face of Jazz. Jazz, however, grinned.

"And now I can officially say it! It's good to see you again, Prowl!"

TBC…


	4. Memories Catching Up

Prowl blinked, staring at Jazz in many long moments, the words sinking in and yet scarcely believing them. Not only Jazz knew Prowl was an Autobot, but he actually knew Prowl himself? This made no sense at all.

"You had better keep your voice down," he said softly. "You don't know who might be listening in on us."

"Oh, ouch, now that's a cold greeting," Jazz said with a kindhearted chuckle. "Still, no worries, man, there's nobody else but us undercover Autobots, so I can finally do this." With that, he boldly walked up to Prowl and placing an arm across his shoulders. "I was hoping Prime would send me someone I could trust, but I never thought it would be you!"

"I… volunteered," Prowl said, not really smiling. Not that that fazed Jazz, naturally.

"Yeah, I guess something like that might have happened. You always knew how to get what you wanted, Prowl."

Prowl stared at Jazz, deciding that enough was enough. "Do I know you?"

The grin slowly faded. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"I don't think we've ever met before, actually," Prowl replied. "You went undercover before I joined the Autobot ranks."

"Uh huh," Jazz said, amusement in his words once more. "I take it you've met many Jazzes in your life."

A frown clouded over Prowl's optics. "There's you, and then there was…" he paused, realization catching up with him. "You?"

Jazz's smile returned on his lip components once more. "Yup, the only and only!"

Prowl now locked his gaze on his fellow black and white Autobot, scarcely believing this was happening. "How long has it been?"

"Quite a while," Jazz replied.

* * *

><p><em>Prowl watched the six other sparklings playing from across the road. They seemed to so engrossed in their game, laughing and shouting boisterously, that they hardly paid attention to him. He wanted to play, too, but he didn't really know any of them. Simply walking up to them and start playing wouldn't be proper and they were bound to refuse. After all, his mother always said that one should follow a certain protocol while interacting with others. On the other hand, introducing himself to the other sparklings severely contradicted with the 'Never talk to strangers' warning, giving him a headache.<em>

"_What's the matter, Prowl?"_

_Prowl looked up at his mother sadly, then pointed at the sparklings._

"_You want to play with them?"_

_Prowl nodded._

"_Did you ask them?"_

_Prowl bowed his head, staring down at the metallic sidewalk. "No."_

_In the next moment, he felt her gentle hand patting his back. "Then go on."_

_Prowl looked back at his mother, the permission gladdening him. Yet his joy quickly changed into concern as another thought crossed his mind._

"_What if they say 'No'?"_

_She chuckled softly. "What if they say 'Yes'? You'll only know if you find out."_

_Prowl decided that, as long as his mother deemed it alright for him to interact, he should give it a shot. So, after taking a couple of deep breaths to muster his courage, he then braved one step after the other towards the sparklings. His optics scanned them in order to choose which one to address without risking any hostility. For example, one of the sparklings was much taller than Prowl, so Prowl decided to steer clear from him; another established his presence by being loud and attention-seeking; and another seemed to be sulking at the moment. The fourth one, however, looked a lot more welcoming. He was about Prowl's height, probably his age as well, and smiling. He was ideal._

"_Um… Hi."_

_The sparkling faced him and instantly smiled back at him. "Hi right back at ya. Wanna play?"_

_Prowl was surprised how easy that had been, but relieved as well. And something in his expression must have revealed that precise thought to the other sparkling, for he chuckled softly._

"_I saw you from across the street. If you mum hadn't talked you into coming here. I'd invite you over myself," the sparkling said. "So… You know the rules of the game?"_

_Prowl nodded happily, and he followed the sparkling so they would join the game once more. "I'm Prowl, by the way."_

_The sparkling's optics shone underneath his visor. "I'm Jazz."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, Prowl," Jazz said as he hurried up at his fellow black and white sparkling, who was sitting out his house with a datapad in his hand. "You busy?"<em>

_Prowl looked up from his datapad. "Well, I'm reading about the Rebellion and A-3's part in it-"_

"_Great, you're not!" Jazz declared and he grabbed Prowl by the arm, dragging him back on his feet. "Now come on!"_

"_Jazz, Dad is going to ask me what I've picked up from the story when he gets back!"_

"'_We won, they lost. The end.' Piece of oil cake," Jazz replied as both sparklings walked on. "But you've got to see _this_!"_

"_See what?" Prowl asked, more than just a little confused now._

"_Just follow my lead," was Jazz's only answer, and he crouched behind a wall, peeking around the corner. "Okay, we're right on time."_

"_Time for what?" Prowl managed a peek of his own and he felt his optics widening when he recognized the building across the road. "Isn't that Graupel's place?"_

"_Sure is."_

_Prowl sighed and shook his head. "I'd rather he didn't see me, Jazz." For Prowl had had dealings with that one before. Ever since he had enlisted in the Sparkling Facility, the green and indigo sparkling had picked Prowl as his 'target'. He had kept making fun of him either right on his face or behind his back, steal his datapads to write obscenities in them or downright damage them, or sometimes even hit him. Prowl had talked to his creators about it, as well as the instructors, and they _had_ taken action by keeping an optic on things. However, Graupel simply made sure he wasn't caught red-handed and Prowl felt bad about voicing his problem again. The only one who knew that this continued was Jazz, and he had promised not to tell anybody else._

"_Trust me, you're gonna love this!" Jazz reassured him with a grin._

_Prowl waited, unsure what to expect, but deciding to indulge his friend on this. A breem later, he saw Graupel walking out of his home. As he stepped out the door, however, he tripped onto a wire that was attached on the bottom of the threshold and, before he had the chance to wonder what was going on, a giant, painfully obvious fake mecha-spider sprang onto him. Graupel screamed at the attack and fled back inside with arms flailing wildly… but not before Jazz had a chance to film the whole thing._

"_Priceless…" the visored sparkling said with a leering smile, storing the recording into subspace. "This will go to every terminal in the Facility. That'll teach him to mess with you."_

_Prowl, however, didn't really share his friend's enthusiasm. "Jazz, I'd rather you didn't show this publicly."_

_Jazz looked at Prowl incredulously. "What are you talking about? This is perfect. He won't bother you again after that."_

"_He thinks he's tough by picking on me, just because he's twice my size," Prowl said. "If he was smart enough, he'd understand that that is pathetic and he'd leave me alone. _This _isn't going to change his mind; it's just going to be a reversal of roles. Why should I feel good by being mean right back at him?"_

"_You're kidding, right? The guy's done nothing else except make your life a misery! He should get a taste of his own medicine!"_

"_No, Jazz, he shouldn't."_

"_Why, for Primus' sake?"_

"_Because I don't want anyone to go through with what _he _puts me through. Not even him," Prowl reasoned. "Besides, he's _one_ in the whole facility; everybody else is okay with me. How fair will it be if the whole facility makes fun of him?"_

_Jazz heaved a sigh. "I really hate it when you use your logic. It takes the fun out of the whole thing."_

"_I'm just saying we shouldn't rush on things," Prowl said with a shrug. "After all… if he tries another move, we can always show this evidence and suggest he backs off before it actually hits all the terminals…"_

_Jazz blinked at that. "But… you just said you don't want to show it."_

"_Oh, you and I know that. He doesn't."_

_Jazz blinked once more and then, as realization caught up with him, grinned broadly. "I _do _like the way you think."_

_A small smile appeared on Prowl's lip components. "I said we shouldn't be mean, not fools," he said. "Shall we go?"_

"_Sure thing, partner," Jazz said, placing an arm across Prowl's shoulders as the two of them walked away once more._

"_Oh, and Jazz?"_

"_Yeah, Prowl?"_

_Prowl smiled up at him. "Thanks."_

"_Heh. You're welcome."_

* * *

><p>"<em>So that's it? You're leaving?" Prowl asked Jazz. Both sparklings were sitting on the edge of the sidewalk locked in a conversation that they had hoped they wouldn't have.<em>

_Jazz nodded, a sad expression on his features for the first time Prowl remembered him. He had even taken off his visor, for he didn't feel so hip and cool today. _

"_Folks were adamant. The money is better in Altihex, and there aren't all that many musicians. They say it's an opportunity of a lifetime."_

"_They don't like it here then?" _

"_That's what I asked them, and they said they do," Jazz answered._

"_Then why leave?" That kind of reasoning didn't make sense to Prowl, no matter how hard he tried to understand._

"_They said we would be happier there; that we would have a better house and more of the things we need, as well as new friends for me."_

"_But you have a good home! You have friends! You _are_ happy!" Prowl reasoned, only to look up at his fellow sparkling at the next moment in an apprehensive manner. "Aren't you?"_

"_I am, Prowl, I really am. And if I had my way, I would have stayed. But my folks call the shots for now."_

_Prowl let out a soft sigh. "Yeah, that's true."_

"_Come on, buddy, please don't be like that. I already feel bad enough as it is. You're my best friend and I hate saying goodbye."_

"_Sorry," Prowl said, lowering his gaze. "I guess we'll have our memories of the other."_

"_You betcha. I won't forget you, Prowl," Jazz said, placing an arm across his friend's shoulders._

"_I won't forget you either," Prowl promised with a small smile, sealing the deal._

* * *

><p>Prowl regarded Jazz for many long moments, scarcely believing that the sparkling that he had befriended all those vorns ago was now standing before him as a full-grown mech and a fellow Autobot as well. What made him mentally frown, however, was that he should have recognized him from first glance, for Jazz hadn't changed all that much. There was still the same cheeky smile, the same visor, the same plating, minus a couple of differences here and there… Why hadn't he seen it before?<p>

Something in his look must have revealed part of his thoughts to Jazz, for he smiled kindly. "No need to feel bad, man. I guess you were too focused on your mission to notice," he said. "I still remember that one time that there had been a fire-drill in the Sparkling Facility and you simply stayed in the library, studying, not noticing a thing."

Prowl smiled, remembering the incident. It was a wonder how long ago it seemed to have been. "Everybody regarded me as if I had lost a screw."

"Can you blame them?" Jazz replied with a chuckle. "So what are you doing with your life when you don't work undercover for the Autobots?"

"I'm second-in-command and the battle tactician."

Jazz let out a soft whistle. "You've been busy."

"I had to be," Prowl said.

The visored mech winced visibly. "Yeah, I guess so. Where you here when…?"

"Yes, I was," Prowl replied softly. "I suppose I should consider myself lucky."

"What about your folks?"

Prowl simply shook his head.

"Really sorry, man," Jazz said sincerely.

"Don't be," the tactician said, smiling weakly. "They're probably in a better place than you and I are now."

"Guess you have a point there," Jazz admitted.

Prowl, however, didn't want to linger on that matter any longer. "What about you?" he asked. "Altihex was one of the last cities to fall, if my information is good."

"Correction: Altihex surrendered," Jazz replied with a sigh. "That wasn't welcome by all, naturally, but they couldn't exactly tell that to Megatron's face, even if it would be satisfying. So, anyone that could skip town, did just that, my folks and I included."

"Yet you joined the Autobots."

"Well, yeah. I couldn't sit by and watch everything without doing anything. When we arrived in Iacon, the first thing I did was join the Autobots."

"Didn't your creators oppose your decision?"

"They weren't happy about it; they'd rather I was safe with them. In the end, though, they decided it was best to just let me go and do my own thing."

Prowl nodded his understanding. "And what is your position in the Autobot ranks? I was told you were an officer, but not much else."

Jazz grinned. "Third in command and Captain of Special Ops, baby."

Prowl couldn't help but smile at that. "I see you've kept yourself busy, too."

"Yup," Jazz replied. "Though I have to admit that the officer part isn't my thing. I'm more of use right in the field."

"Is that why you took this mission?"

"Among other reasons," Jazz said. "You have to admit that the Decepticons seem to always get the cool stuff because of mechs like Warcloud. We should give them some kind of pause."

"I have to say I agree," Prowl said.

"Yeah, I thought you might. So after I convinced Prime to send me behind the enemy lines, it was all just a matter of infiltrating."

"No one was suspicious of you?" Prowl asked, cocking his head.

"Sure, plenty of them were suspicious of me at first," Jazz replied with a light shrug. "But I have my way around mechs. I even managed to get _you _out of your stiff shell, if you remember," he added.

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "If by getting me out of my shell you mean going out of my way so you stayed out of trouble… then, yes, you did."

"Hey, it worked, right?" Jazz retorted, grinning. "Anyway, to cut a long story short, I'm not pretty much considered Airstrike's lackey and, therefore, a Decepticon. So I finally sent my first message and, judging by your presence here, I'd say you picked it up without problems."

"We did," Prowl said. "But I have to admit that I never expected things to be this dire."

"They are. But maybe they won't have to be for long."

"What do you mean?"

"You heard them talking, right? Warcloud has the prototype. But… if the prototype gets 'accidentally' destroyed…" Jazz didn't continued, looking meaningfully in Prowl's direction.

"… Then he won't be able to make more of those drones," Prowl said. "That would be a blow to Megatron's army-building plans."

"Yup," Jazz said, nodding with a grin. "So what do you think, partner?"

Prowl's lips tugged to a rare smile, one that he used when the answer was beautifully crystal-clear before him.

"I think it's time we got to work."


	5. Setting A Plan

The following morning, Prowl got out of his berth, barely acknowledging the rest of his so-called comrades and giving the impression that nothing was amiss whatsoever. It was a necessary front if it meant keeping last night's events a secret. So he carried on with his tasks, the same way he had the previous day, and his expression revealed nothing when, upon arriving in the common room, he heard Jazz whistle at him. Optics scanned the room meticulously, and he soon spotted the mech himself. Jazz was sitting at a table, two cubes in front of him and a friendly grin on his lip components.

"'Morning," he said as Prowl sat down across from him. "Recharged well?"

"Sort of," Prowl replied candidly. "After we parted our ways, I removed the bug and then recorded its data so we would have a backup file."

Jazz chuckled softly. "Business always comes first with you, doesn't it?"

"Always," Prowl replied. "Which means it's time we discussed what we should do with Warcloud's prototype chip."

"Yes, though I don't see why we couldn't do this yesterday," Jazz pointed out.

Prowl shook his head. "We may have been pretty much alone, as you said, but that wasn't a risk I was willing to take."

"And now?" Jazz asked, cocking his head.

"Many mechs and all of them engaged in their own conversation," Prowl said. "Nobody will care what we have to say."

"Fair enough. So," with that, Jazz leaned closer, his fingers wrapped around his cube securely. "How do we go about this?"

Prowl pursed his lips momentarily, thinking about it. "Well, it's fairly obvious that we shouldn't let Warcloud leave with that microchip."

"Break and enter into his ship and steal it?" Jazz suggested.

"I would have agreed if his ship weren't a Transformer," Prowl pointed out. "We could send a message to Prime, though. A warning so they can apprehend him should do the trick."

"Negative. By the time Prime and the others get the message, Warcloud will be long gone," Jazz said with a shake of his head. "If something has to be done, it's up to us two to do it."

Prowl sipped his cube slowly as he contemplated their next best option. "There's another way. But it requires perfect timing," he finally said.

"I like challenges," Jazz replied with a smile. "Tell me."

"We hijack Warcloud's ride. You're responsible for the organization of patrols. If you arrange us to go out together just a few megacycles before Warcloud and his escort take off, we could have enough time to ambush them, incapacitate them and grab the chip. By the time the Decepticons are warned, we will be over the Neutral Zone and on our way to Iacon."

Jazz raised an optic ridge underneath his visor. "I take it this will be our goodbye to our 'friendly' Decepticon ranks?"

Prowl nodded. "We cannot come back here after that. We'll be wanted mechs."

"A resignation with style. I like it," Jazz admitted and held up his cube to have some of the luminescent liquid. "There is a small snag to that plan, though."

"Tell me," Prowl said.

"We don't know when Warcloud will leave or where he'll be heading next. Ambushing him will be tricky."

"True," Prowl said thoughtfully. "We will have to find that information. Perhaps I'll be able to retrieve it from the flight plans in the main computer."

"Or maybe Warcloud's goon can help in that department," Jazz said.

"I doubt he will tell us willingly," Prowl pointed out in a dry tone.

Jazz grinned. "Who knows. I just might surprise you yet."

"What do you mean?" To say that Prowl was confused would have been an understatement.

Jazz, however, simply emptied the contents of his cube with one last gulp and got back on his feet. "You got the bug with you?"

Prowl nodded and handed over the device, although he wasn't sure what to make of matters.

"What do you intend to do?" he asked curiously.

"I'll tell you when I see you later. You just keep the recorder ready."

And with that he was off, leaving a very perplexed Prowl behind. Yet neither of them noticed Airstrike sitting just a few feet away, looking in their direction and carrying a frowning expression on his features.

* * *

><p>Jazz walked casually down the corridor, whistling softly as he went. To any unsuspecting Decepticon, he looked as if he was happily going about his business. In truth, however, his optics were in search of a particular target… and he had just located him, walking in the opposite direction.<p>

Perfect. Jazz chose one of his favourite music files and set it on play. As the melodious tune blocked every other sound that might have reached his audios, he started dancing as if there was no tomorrow… and crashed on the mech.

"Whoops… Sorry, man, my bad."

The mech growled. "Just watch where you're going."

"Sure thing. Sorry again." With that, Jazz walked away dancing, not bothering to look back. He was pretty sure that the mech just growled again like a good goon and then continued on his way, cursing under his breath… and Prowl's bug securely attached on his torso.

Jazz twirled his body, obeying to the rhythm of the music, and he decided that life was very good indeed.

* * *

><p>Prowl settled in his dorms, taking a place in a comfortable seat nearby with a transmitter in his hand. He didn't any duties as a Decepticon; he was considered a recruit and under trial, after all.<p>

Truth be told, however, Prowl felt more than a little uneasy. If anyone walked in, they would probably question the reason of his being here, holding the transmitter. He wasn't sure what his fellow Autobot was up to, but he had seen that look of determination even underneath the visor. Now he could just hope that he would get the answers soon.

The door hissed open, violently cutting Prowl's train of thought. The tactician instantly turned around, a hand clenched into a fist, but there was no need of alarm, thankfully. It was Jazz, and he seemed pleased with himself if his grin were any indication.

"Easy, man. It's just me," Jazz said with a placating motion. "You have the recorder on?"

"Yes, of course," Prowl said. "Now will you tell me your plan?"

"Wow, someone is impatient," Jazz commented, chuckling.

"Need I remind you that we're in this together and keeping the other in the dark _isn't_ what partnership is about?" Prowl pointed out, raising an optic ridge.

"Your logic really does take the fun out of everything," Jazz said with a long dramatic sigh. "Okay, I'll keep it simple. I've placed your bug on Warcloud's goon. With any luck, we will be able to hear what their next destination will be."

That had Prowl frown. "That is too risky. There's a chance the bug will be discovered before we get any real information. And if that happens, they'll probably trace the bug to us."

"Does the bug have your name on it?" Jazz asked.

"No, but…"

"And is there a chance we won't destroy any incriminating evidence if they discover it?"

"We will destroy it, of course, but I rather I didn't have to come down to that," Prowl said. "There's a 46% probability that…"

"Prowl, man, I like you, I do. But never tell me the odds," Jazz said. "We aren't new at this. If something happens, we'll deal with it like we were trained to do."

"And that means?" Prowl asked, raising his optic ridge.

"We'll think of something."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Prowl replied. But Jazz apparently missed the dry tone – or chose to ignore it – for he chuckled and patted Prowl on the shoulder.

"Well, gotta go; no rest for the wicked and all. But I'll come back and check on you later."

"Very well. See you later, Jazz."

"Bye bye. Talk to you later," the mech replied. And with a brief wave if goodbye, he was gone out of the door.

Prowl supposed that that was also his cue to get down to work. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one else was about to walk in, then started listening. This was going to be a long day…

* * *

><p>It had been several megacycles before Jazz returned to Prowl's dorm. The visored mech, however, seemed to be the epitome of energy as he stepped inside briskly with a huge grin on his lip components. He was even holding a cube of energon in his hands, handing it to his fellow Autobot.<p>

"Any news?" he asked.

"Not as of yet," Prowl replied with a shake of his head. "He's one of the taciturn sort."

"Well, they don't hire them for their communication skills," Jazz pointed out with a shrug. He took a seat on Prowl's berth, sitting cross-legged in relaxed manner. "There was no sign of Warcloud either today. If he's planning something, he's keeping a snag to our manipulating the duty roster plan."

"Could be his method of operating," Prowl said thoughtfully. "Keeping the info to himself till the last moment so no one picks up on the information."

"Sounds about right. That means we'll probably won't be as subtle as we'd hoped."

"I thought you liked things done in style," Prowl pointed out with a small yet definitely wry smile.

Jazz chuckled. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did," Prowl said. In the next moment, however, he stiffened, optics narrowing just a bit. "He's with Warcloud."

Jazz got back on his feet, standing next to Prowl. "You sure?"

"Positive. I recognized Warcloud's voice," the tactician said, and he handed Jazz one of the headphones. "Here."

Jazz accepted it with a brief "Thanks" and pressed it to his audio to listen in on the conversation as well.

"_So I trust no one bothered you?"_

"_No, Boss. They kept their distance."_

"_And we'll keep it that way. Meet me at the runway tomorrow. Our job here is done."_

"_We're going home then, Boss?"_

"_Almost. We have one last stop to Polyhex to pick up our payment. You do want your credits, right?"_

Prowl and Jazz exchanged a look then instantly placed away the headphones.

"I'll cook our duty roster tomorrow," Jazz said, heading for the exit.

"Do that," Prowl replied. "Let me know when we're to leave."

"Sure thing. Slight tight, Prowl." And with that last word of goodbye, Jazz was gone, leaving Prowl murmur dryly.

"I doubt I'll be able to."

Yet what neither Jazz nor Prowl realized was that someone else was watching their every move. And when the saboteur exited the dorm, that same someone activated his transmitter and gave his own report to his commanding officer.

"Longshot here. Things are just like you suspected, Boss."

TBC...


	6. Ambush

When the Decepticon soldiers took up their duties the next day, everything seemed to operate smoothly. The change of shifts was done without fuss, and Airstrike handed the warriors their patrolling routes, as usual. Some of the recruits were also meant to join the veteran units so they could get a taste of what being a Decepticon was about, and so no one seemed to think anything was off when Prowl – along with several others – were hand-picked for the job as well. As far as everyone was concerned, things were going they should be. Just like Prowl and Jazz thought, even if for very different reasons.

Prowl put on the brakes and transformed, optics scanning his surroundings. The place looked barren, almost eerily so as he didn't detect any other life forms except for himself and Jazz. If there were any actual Decepticons patrolling the area, they were too far away to pick their energy signals anymore… or their transmissions. Using this to his advantage, he opened his communication frequencies.

"Prowl to Jazz. Do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, buddy," Jazz replied. "I'm just around the corner."

"Oh?" Prowl looked around and, indeed, he saw Jazz coming out of a small alley with a big grin on his lip components.

"Had any trouble slipping away from your 'fellow' 'Cons?" the saboteur asked.

"If I had, I wouldn't be here," Prowl pointed out in a dry tone, though a small smile did accompany his words.

"You got me there," Jazz laughed, raising his palms in an appeasing manner. He looked at their surroundings, giving a critical optic. "This looks like a good spot to set our ambush."

"It does," Prowl agreed. He looked up, then pointed at a spot on a nearby building. "Can you place a bomb there?"

"Sure thing. And I'll put one over there, across from that building…" Jazz said, pointing at the spot he talked about.

"One bomb should be enough," Prowl commented.

"It's for good measure," Jazz said. "Besides, we need all the smoke we can get."

"Not if we can't see either in the process."

"Trust me," Jazz said, already taking out of subspace the first smoke bomb. "Have I ever given you a reason not to?"

"How about the time when you hacked into the Sparkling Facility's computer systems and started playing your music through the speakers? Loudly?"

"That was just a bit of fun!"

"You got caught. And, even though I had nothing to do with it, I had to listen to my father telling me that well-brought up sparklings don't go about sneaking inside offices just to play their music."

"And what did your father add in the end?"

"… even if the music isn't all that bad. But my point still stands."

"Sure does," Jazz chuckled, and he armed the bomb in his gun. "Okay, bombs away!" As soon as he pulled the trigger, the bomb was launched, gluing safely onto the piping of the building. Once the second bomb was securely in place at the other building too, the two friends climbed up the stairs of a third and waited, using the cover of several debris scattered about. Something told them they wouldn't have to wait for long.

And they didn't. Sure enough, Mortar appeared in his alternate mode, flying low to avoid any detection from the enemy. Little did he know, of course, that the enemy had already spotted him and were ready to make their move.

"Come on; just a little closer…" Jazz murmured, the detonator in his hand.

"Hold," Prowl said, optics never leaving the Decepticon.

"Holding," the saboteur said. "I know my job, Prowl."

"And I know my math," the tactician retorted, his processor working on every possible factor that was there: speed of the vehicle, the wind and its direction, the power of the shockwave… All adding up to one perfect moment when Mortar would be most vulnerable and to taken aback to react and fight back. Like…

"Now!"

The word barely had time to escape his lips as Jazz pressed the detonator, having confidence in his experience. A great booming sound reverberated through the air, and flames sprang to life, lunging in Mortar's way. The jetformer was surrounded in them before he had time to steer to safety, and he found himself wobbling in his attempt to fly blindly through them.

Prowl and Jazz grinned as they saw their plan was working. Mortar slowed down and flew lower, not realizing he was below them and in leaping distance.

"Jazz!"

"Way ahead of you!" Jazz had already taken his grappling hook out of subspace and launched it in Mortar's direction, aiming for one of the wings. "You'd better grab hold of me!"

"For what?"

"This!" Jazz wrapped the tactician by the waist, just as they were torn away from the building.

Prowl exclaimed in surprise and shock, hands instantly gripping on Jazz tightly.

"The idea was to jump on him!" he cried, trying to be heard above the wind that was swooshing past them.

"And risk falling off?" Jazz said. "Besides, when will you get the chance to fly like this?"

"Hopefully never again!"

Jazz laughed and started recoiling the cord, pulling them both upwards. Prowl dearly hoped that the cord would hold them both, or they would be in for one long fall and he wanted to live, thank you very much.

"Uh oh."

"What?" Prowl asked.

"Welcoming committee!" Indeed, a hatch had opened on Mortar's underside, and both Autobots saw the series of blasters springing out, ready to get rid of the hijackers. Prowl actually growled and instantly took out his acid-pellet rifle from subspace.

"You keep pulling us up; I shoot!" he declared. His first shot hit the blaster squarely on the barrel and sent it up in flames, a flame that three more blasters followed as the tactician's aim proved true. The tactician didn't waver once as Jazz continued dragging them towards one of the hatches, and he only directed his aim elsewhere when it was time to force it open. The acid did its work, melting the hinges away and allowing both Autobots to scramble inside safe and sound at last. They took a few deep breaths, savouring the few moments of quiet they could afford and trying to shut out the pain of their limbs after the strain they had suffered.

"And here I was, thinking that you don't have a bad side," Jazz noted with a grin.

"Beware of the nice ones," Prowl said with a shrug, and then held up his rifle once more. "Shall we?"

Jazz's grin broadened, and he took out his own gun. "Lead the way, buddy."

Prowl nodded and, cocking his rifle, he headed down the corridor with Jazz close to his heels. Mortar had tried to shake them off, steering abruptly to the left and right, but neither of the Autobots would have it, not even when he crashlanded on the ground, hoping to knock them out unconscious They simply forged on towards the cockpit, where they knew Warcloud would be hiding. When they heard another kind of sound, the familiar whirring of transformation, they had no choice but to smash a window nearby and throw themselves out.

Mortar completed his transformation, cannon in hand, while Warcloud leapt at his side with his own weapons at hand.

"You know, if there's something my friend and I hate is stowaways," Warcloud said, aiming at the Autobots and daring them to make the first move. When his optics caught sight of the Decepticon insignia, however, his confidence vanished visibly. "M- Megatron sent you?"

"What do you think?" Jazz said. Prowl frowned at those words, but a discreet signal from the saboteur warned him that he should play along.

Warcloud sighed. "Look, I simply wanted to do this job and make some credits for myself and my friend," he said. "If Megatron wants the chip, he's welcome to it. You can just let me be on my way, and everyone's a winner."

"And what's stopping you from using more chips to march against Megatron?" Jazz demanded, still playing the Decepticon part.

"Don't play dumb with me. We both know that that's not happening," Warcloud said wryly. "I'll just go and won't bother him again."

"Why isn't it happening?" Prowl asked, more than just a little confused.

Warcloud stared at the two mechs for many long moments. "Then… you don't _really _know… Do you?"

"Know what?" Prowl said.

"If you don't know then why would you-"

"Answer the question or face the consequences, man," Jazz said, holding up his gun meaningfully.

"Fine, I'll talk!" Warcloud declared, intimidated, and then let out a sigh. "Here's the thing. I'm a Decepticon, just like you. But, hey, being under Megatron's pay isn't much of a prospect financially wise… So when this mech approached me and said that there's a way we can make an easy credit, I just took it. All I had to do was impersonate him, hand over one good chip and then, once I got my payment, meet in him in Polyhex and split the loot."

Jazz's optics widened underneath the visor. "Are you saying you're not the real Warcloud?"

"Well… yeah, I am," 'Warcloud' said, chuckling sheepishly.

"I think I begin to see what's going on," Prowl said then. "This Warcloud never intended to sell Megatron more than one chip. For some reason or other, he couldn't give him more, or he couldn't _make_ more. So he decided to get pre-payment, using the one functional chip to bait Megatron about the value of his merchandise, and then disappear with the money." He looked in the fake Warcloud's direction. "He used you as decoy so he wouldn't place himself in danger in case his plan was discovered."

"Yup, that about sums it up. You're a smart one," the fake Warcloud said. "So… it's not me you want; it's him. He'll be in Polyhex at 08:00 megacycles. Can we go now?"

"I think not," another said in that very moment. And when everyone turned to the direction of the voice, they were shocked to see that it was Airstrike, followed by an entourage of gun-wielding Decepticons.

"Well, well… what have we here?" the Decepticon commander said, raising an optic ridge. "Care to explain yourself out of this one, Jazz?"

Jazz, however, didn't lose his cool. "I don't know what you're talking about, man. Prowl and I knew there was something electro-fishy with Warcloud, so we decided to investigate."

"I'd really love to believe you; you are one of the best soldiers we had," Airstrike said. "Unfortunately, the evidence is against you." He looked in Prowl's direction. "And I know you two are a team."

Prowl kept his face neutral, not intending to give away anything. "You are much mistaken. I've only met Jazz three days ago."

Airstrike chuckled. "I know Jazz, perhaps as well as you. He was always outgoing and friendly with recruits. But you're the one he actually bothered to have a conversation with."

"Hey, I _always_ strike conversations with everyone; I don't mean anything by it."

"Perhaps, but you never strike conversations in the main room over a cube of energon," Airstrike said. "So it makes me wonder why would you hide the fact that you know this one. And, upon digging, I found my answer." His gaze hardened. "Thinking of defecting, or are you already one of them?"

"One of who?" Prowl cut in, feigning confusion.

Airstrike huffed and faced the tactician. "Should I congratulate you on your new position as second-in-command, Autobot?"

Prowl pursed his lip components. Apparently, the Decepticon intel was more efficient than he would have liked.

"Yes, I know that. And I know about you, too," Airstrike said, turning at the fake Warcloud. "Megatron says 'Hi'… Swindle."

Swindle winced visibly. "Hey, come on, I'm sure we can…"

"Save it," Airstrike said. "Gentlemechs, seize the profiteers."

"What about them, Boss?" Longshot said, nodding in the direction of Jazz and Prowl.

"This one will be useful," Airstrike said, regarding Prowl with a smirk before looking at Jazz. "As for you… your services are no longer required. Shoot him, Longshot."

"With pleasure," Longshot grinned and held up his weapon, aiming.


	7. An Autobot's Primary Mission

Prowl clenched his hands into fists, ready to put up a fight and help Jazz, but two of Airstrike's bodyguards turned out to be faster and placed him in stasis cuffs. Even that couldn't deter the tactician, however, and he managed to place a well-weighed kick on one of the Decepticons, an action that was returned with a punch that had him land unceremoniously on the ground.

"Jazz…!"

"I'd stay still if I were you, Autobot," the second Decepticon said, pinning Prowl down with his weight. The knee pressed on a door panel in more than just a little painful manner, and Prowl had to stop himself from crying out.

Meanwhile, Longshot held Jazz at gunpoint, his smirk of satisfaction never leaving his lip-components.

"Say hello to Primus, traitor."

"I don't intend to visit him just yet!" Jazz cried, and a set of woofers sprang out of his hips. Before any of the Decepticons had time to react, music hit their audios at full blast, deafening them and stunning them. Prowl couldn't help but wince as well, but he was soon snapped out of it when he felt the stasis cuffs dropping on the ground and his hands free at last.

"Now's not the time to criticize my music, man! Transform!"

Prowl didn't need to be told twice. As soon as Jazz changed into his vehicle mode, he followed his example and drove off, engine at full-throttle.

"After them!" Airstrike's voice sounded quite clearly, a sign that the Decepticons had recovered from their initial shock.

"I hope you're fully charged, Prowl, 'cause we've just made them pretty mad!" Jazz said at that.

"You think?" Prowl said dryly, then swerved to the right before any Decepticon blast him. "We won't be able to shake them off that easily either."

"You suggesting we let them follow us all the way to Iacon?" Jazz asked.

"More like going for our backup plan," Prowl replied, activating an Autobot distress signal. "Let's hope that reinforcements are nearby."

"And let's hope we stay alive by the time they get here!" Jazz said, taking another turn. As Prowl followed him close behind, his sensors picked up the outline of debris, remnants of a building that had stood proud and tall during the Golden Age of Cybertron. Now, however, Prowl's quick thinking made him regard the decrepit thing as something else entirely.

"This way!" he cried, and he drove behind a large boulder to transform back into his robot form.

Jazz swerved and headed in the same direction, a barrage of blasts barely missing him. But for Prowl's acid-pellet rifles covering his retreat, Jazz would have been in trouble for sure.

"Thanks, man," Jazz said as he transformed to his robot mode as well. "Now it's my turn!" And with that, he took out of subspace a blast grenade which he threw amid the Decepticons.

Airstrike cursed loudly. "Decepticons! Take off!"

The squadron complied, the blast barely missing them as they flew out of harm's way.

"Do you think they got the message?" Jazz asked, looking at the scene with a raised optic ridge.

"I don't think they're going to let us off that easily," Prowl pointed out grimly, loading his rifle once more.

As if Airstrike intended to prove the tactician, he faced Longshot.

"Swindle and Mortar back to the base," he ordered. "We'll deal with them."

"Done," Longshot said, and he turned to two of his mates. "Alright, you heard him! Let's move!"

With that, the squadron got split in two, something that didn't escape neither Prowl's nor Jazz's attention.

"Looks like the odds have evened," the saboteur commented.

Prowl, however, thought hard. If the Decepticons had the ability to fly, then they could just as easily attack them from the air. So why didn't they…?

"Decepticons, bombard the entire area!" Airstrike ordered, transforming into his large tetrajet mode.

"What about the Autobot officer?" one of the Decepticon fliers pointed out.

"If we can't have the whole package, then we'll take his memory databanks. Fire!"

Prowl exchanged a glance, the same thought crossing their minds.

"Run!"

And run they did, as fast as their feet could carry them. Blasts and roaring engines echoed over their heads, followed by the deep cracking of the abandoned building getting torn apart. When the first boulder fell, however, Prowl had to stop on his tracks, freezing in place. His mind worked hard to find a means of escape, but he kept drawing a blank. And then more debris came tumbling down, ready to crash him…

"Watch out!" A pair of hands pushed him out of the way, and the tactician found himself curled on the ground, past and present mixing and numbing him.

Or so he had feared. Jazz's voice reached his audios, loud and clear and cutting through the haze that had threatened to engulf him.

"Prowl? Prowl! Come on, man! Don't you freeze up on me!"

Prowl checked himself, making sure that he was still able to will his body to move; then propped himself on his elbow.

"Jazz?" he asked quietly.

There was an audible sigh of relief. "Blast it, you scared me for a moment there."

"Sorry," Prowl replied and looked over his shoulder. "Are you…?"

His voice died in his vocaliser, for it was then that he saw the great boulder keeping the saboteur pinned down; both legs were trapped underneath it.

Jazz smiled sheepishly. "Yeah… One could say I'm kinda hard-pressed."

"This is no laughing matter!" Prowl said and scrambled at Jazz's side. "There was to be a way to lift this off you!"

Jazz's smile waned. "Sure, if we didn't have Airstrike and his company bombarding us. Except we do."

Meanwhile, Prowl still examined the boulder, trying to figure out what he should do. He couldn't roll it away. Even if it wasn't in quite the inconvenient size and shape for one mech to do that sort of thing, he risked crushing Jazz's legs further. His optics drifted upward, noticing a beam hanging precariously over them, twisted and melted and barely attached to the piece of concrete that used to be a wall.

"We can use your grappling hook," he said. "If you manage to fire it over that beam, we can create a makeshift pulley."

"By the time you manage to get this thing off of me, the 'Cons will join the party," Jazz pointed out. He smiled ruefully. "Sorry, man, but you've got to let me go."

Prowl stared at Jazz incredulously. "You don't mean that," he said.

"I'm dead serious," the saboteur said. "There's no need for both of us to face the music. It's logical, right?"

Prowl clenched his jaw. Yes, it was more logical for one Autobot to get captured than two. Yes, he could escape while Airstrike dealt with Jazz. He could be rescued. He could live and fight another day. But at what cost?

"I won't have your death in my conscience," he said, holding up his rifle.

Jazz blinked. "Okay, I think a boulder landed on your head and knocked your processor out of its place, man."

"Maybe," Prowl said, a weak smile tugging on his lip components. "I'm still not leaving you."

At that answer, Jazz couldn't do much else except shake his head. "Well… it was nice seeing you, partner."

"Likewise, Jazz," Prowl replied, accepting his inevitable fate in a wry tone.

"Well, well, isn't that nice?" Airstrike's voice sounded in that very moment. The two Autobots looked up, and there was the very mech himself, accompanied by the other two fliers. "Stop or I might get oily-eyed."

Prowl didn't bother with exchanging a banter. He simply held up his gun and aimed at the commander.

"Fire that thing and it will be the last thing you ever do," Airstrike warned.

"As long as the last thing _you_ do is die," Prowl replied coolly, and pulled the trigger. Though his aim had been true, Airstrike to be a lot faster as he sidestepped, the shot merely grazing his arm. On the other hand, the other two Decepticons fired straight at the tactician, hitting him on the chest.

"Prowl!"

Prowl fell back with a loud clank, clutching the gaping hole as fluid rushed out in the hopes of somehow stopping it. It seemed in vain, though. He picked up the sound of footsteps coming closer, aware that it was the Decepticons and he gritted his teeth to prop himself on his elbow. He stubbornly lifted his rifle, but Airstrike's swift kicks sent it flying.

"You've got bolts; I'll grant you that," the tetrajet said, and he lifted his own gun. The cocking sound rang loud and clear in the air, cutting through it like a knife. "Pity."

What happened next barely registered in Prowl's mind. A great boulder flew as if out of nowhere in the Decepticons' direction, hitting the two goons and knocking them down before they had a chance to react. Airstrike stared at his knocked out entourage, trying to understand the meaning of it all, but then a voice addressed him, challenging and tough.

"There's plenty more where that came from. Wanna see?"

Prowl weakly turned to the direction of the voice, and he was more than just glad to see Brawn standing proud and tall on some rubble, his hands on his hips.

Airstrike let out a growl and faced his subordinates, who were trying to shake off their dizziness. "Get up! Are you going to let one Autobot scare you?"

"You might want to rephrase that," another voice said and a mere moments later, another familiar form walked right next to Brawn: Ironhide. "Unless math isn't your strongest point."

Airstrike frowned and checked his surroundings, hands clenching in dismay; for neither Ironhide nor Brawn were alone. Prowl could see Wheeljack and Windcharger standing at the Decepticons' left, as well as Hound and Bumblebee on their left. They had practically the enemy, and Airstrike's expression was a sign that he also reached that.

"Boss… what do we do now?" one of the two Decepticons said, clearly nervous at the prospect of being outnumbered.

"There's one thing we _can _do," Airstrike said, and he faced Prowl and Jazz once more. "You were lucky this time, but know this. Nothing's over."

And with that, Airstrike took off, transforming to his tetrajet mode in mid-air. Naturally, neither of the other two Decepticons wanted to stay put, so they followed their commander's example and used the cover of darkness to disappear up in the air.

"Heh… figures," Ironhide said.

"Not fair, I wanted to give at least one of them a makeover," Brawn said, flexing his hands meaningfully.

"You'll cure your itch another time," the weapons' specialist said with a smirk, and he walked up to Wheeljack. "How are we doing there, 'Jack?"

Wheeljack ran his scanners over Jazz and Prowl. "Nothing that a patch up and some good old teamwork can't fix."

"Help Jazz first," Prowl said, keeping the tone of his voice strong.

"No way, Prowl needs more help than me," Jazz said instantly.

"You have an entire floor crushing your legs," the tactician stated calmly logically.

"And you have three holes in your chestplate!" Jazz retorted.

"Nothing serious. I'll be fine."

"I can see Ironhide through one of them!"

"You're exaggerating."

"And you're stubborn as a robomule!"

"It takes one to know one then," Prowl said dryly.

The other Autobots blinked at the sight, unsure how it was possible that Prowl could actually banter and exchange jabs – they had never seen him at it before. In the end though, they deemed that this was no time for wondering. While Wheeljack and Hound worked on Prowl, Ironhide and Brawn managed to lift the debris off of Jazz. Jazz groaned slightly as he flexed his legs, trying to assess the damage.

"Well? Can you walk?" Ironhide asked.

"Sorta. One foot joint is pretty busted," the saboteur replied. "It's gonna be just hopping for me for a little while."

"I can give you a ride," Ironhide said, and he faced Wheeljack and Hound. "How's our other injured party?"

"He should be fine till we get to Iacon," Wheeljack said. "After that, a visit to Ratchet will make him as good as new."

"Good," Ironhide said, smiling a bit. "Alright, folks, time to roll out."

And with that, all Autobots transformed, taking the long journey back to Iacon. And yet… one particular Autobot had one question in his mind, and he wanted his answer. So, as they drove on, Brawn caught up with Prowl, driving alongside him.

"Well, that was interesting."

"What was?" Prowl asked, focusing his sensors ahead.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you stayed put to protect your buddy."

"Indeed, I did. Your point?" Prowl asked.

"Weren't you the one who said that an Autobot has to think about his mission first?" the minibot said.

There was a pause for a couple of moments. "I did."

"And what have you got to say to that?"

"I… admit that I was wrong. I had forgotten that there's already one mission to which all Autobots must see to."

"And that is?" Brawn asked.

"…Protect all life."

If Brawn were in his alternate mode, he would have smiled broadly. "Mushy… but true."


	8. Epilogue

The lights in the city of Kaon were dim, hardly brightening the buildings and rooms in which the Decepticons dwelled in. Mechs said that this kind of arrangement was a necessary evil – energy had to be conserved in any way possible. Others, far more cynical, believed that it was Megatron's way of showing his power over his subordinates. Indeed, the fortress of Kolkular, where Megatron resided and handed his orders from, was like a star in a dark sky, its massiveness towering over everything else. A place appropriate for a leader such as Megatron, and Megatron himself made sure everyone was aware of it as he always sat in a high chair that matched his stature.

It was in that very chair that Megatron sat even now, relaxed and hardly fazed as he was in a room large enough to fill about a hundred Cybertronians. At the moment, he was interested to hear what the one in front of him had to say.

"Well, Warcloud, I trust our ruse has been successful?"

A large mech with a red visor and a vice-grip for a hand, nodded. "I wasn't bothered on my way here," he said. "And the merchandise is safe and sound."

"Excellent. It's amusing how predictable the Autobots are," Megatron all but purred, a smirk tugging on his lip components. "And they're not the only ones."

As if right on cue, the doors to the massive room opened and Airstrike walked in, prodding Swindle and Mortar forward. Though Swindle tried to free himself from the stasis-cuffs that were around his wrists, it was impossible; they were simply too well-built.

"Ah, my faithful Swindle," the Decepticon leader said, red optics gleaming dangerously. "I suppose you're familiar with our guest?"

Warcloud's visor locked on Swindle, who shifted uncomfortably.

"We… exchanged a few pleasantries here and there," the con-mech finally said.

"Of course you have," Megatron said, and he got up in order to approach Swindle. "I exchanged some with him, too. He's even told me some _very _interesting things about a Decepticon's functions. What makes them tick, if you will."

"I only live to serve you, Megatron!" Swindle exclaimed.

"Yes… So you would have me believe," Megatron said. He reached for Swindle's chest-plate in an almost casual manner, revealing the mech's inner circuitry. "But you've also proved quite the independent thinker. A flaw that has to be dealt with to its root!" His hand moved fast, fingers gripping the chip he had been looking for and pulling it out in one fluid motion. Swindle's optics widened, a purple light shining through them… and then he collapsed in a heap on the floor, unmoving and staring into nothing.

Megatron, however, was hardly concerned about that. Sparing just one brief glance at the personality chip in his palm, he handed it over to Airstrike.

"Place this with the other four," he said, and then turned to Mortar. "As for you, remember that your life is in my hands now."

"Yes, Megatron," Mortar said softly, defeated.

"Good. Warcloud, I trust you have some use for this one?"

"I have something in my processor," Warcloud said. "A warrior with two transforming modes, perhaps?"

"Then you have your first subject," Megatron said, and his smirk broadened, becoming almost maniacal. He didn't even bother looking back at Mortar as he was taken away, as there was something more important in his mind.

"Now, Warcloud… tell me more about those controlling chips."

THE END


End file.
